


We Were Supposed to Be

by Udunie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, M/M, Off Screen Suicide, Opression, Past Abuse, Suicide mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-06-09 11:37:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6904354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Udunie/pseuds/Udunie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles didn’t know what he expected to see in the closet. It was like every other one down the hallway, filled with cleaning supplies a janitor could need in a hospital. There wasn’t anything extraordinary, not a bottle out of place.</p><p>Two weeks ago, Heather killed herself in there.</p><p>Omegas were supposed to have sensitive noses, but Stiles couldn’t pick up anything. It all smelled like sickness and disinfectant, like every other room.</p><p>“Move it,” Harris barked out behind him. The beta swatted Stiles’ head with his clipboard, sending his ears ringing.</p><p>Stiles moved, feeling like he was in a bubble that made everything gray and dull on the outside.</p><p>Sometimes he missed Heather. Sometimes he envied her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is very different from my other stuff, but I hope you guys will like it! ^^;;;
> 
> Thank you for the lovely Emma for helping me, I love you, hon!

Stiles didn’t know what he expected to see in the closet. It was like every other one down the hallway, filled with cleaning supplies a janitor could need in a hospital. There wasn’t anything extraordinary, not a bottle out of place.

Two weeks ago, Heather killed herself in there.

Omegas were supposed to have sensitive noses, but Stiles couldn’t pick up anything. It all smelled like sickness and disinfectant, like every other room.

“Move it,” Harris barked out behind him. The beta swatted Stiles’ head with his clipboard, sending his ears ringing.

Stiles moved, feeling like he was in a bubble that made everything gray and dull on the outside.

Sometimes he missed Heather. Sometimes he envied her.

 

***

 

Harris pushed him down the corridor. Even though Stiles walked down there a million times, he couldn’t focus enough to remember where they were. It took too much effort.

They didn’t meet a soul. The long term care ward wasn’t exactly a populous place… Most of the patients eventually forgotten by their relatives who gave up long ago.

Alphas still had rights, though. Many medication fucked up the heat circle, sending them spiralling into ruts even when they were otherwise unresponsive. And of course they couldn’t be left to suffer. And that’s where the POPO came in.  _ Protection of Public Omegas _ . What a joke.

Except Stiles wasn’t laughing.

Stiles knew that if an omega went into heat - even when receiving life saving meds - they were required to stop taking it immediately to make sure a potential pregnancy could occur. But that was neither here-nor-there.

Stiles wasn’t here to help omegas.

Harris yanked him back by his shirt when he failed to stop at the next room.

“Get in, I will be back in half an hour,” he said impatiently.

Stiles did as he was told. There was an old man on the bed, already prepared by the nurses. All Alphas that needed a mating were stripped and masked - to make sure they didn’t accidentally give a mating bite to some lowly ‘popper’.

His belly churned, but he swallowed down the bitter taste in his mouth. The old man looked barely more than a skeleton, completely motionless and thin as a twig with only his heavy alpha cock nestled between his legs - hard and angry looking.

Stiles slipped off his thin sweat pants and sloshed some of the antibacterial lube on his fingers.

Today was going to be long.

But that was just the usual.

 

***

 

By the afternoon, Stiles was aching all over. He was given twenty minutes to have a shower while Harris had a lunch break, but it didn’t make him feel any less dirty. He knew that it was only a trick of his own mind, but he could have sworn that there was cool come sliding down the inside of his thighs, no matter how many times he checked.

“Alright. Last one. Make it quick,” the man told him, crossing out the last box on his clipboard. There was a lot more work to do, with Heather… No. He didn’t want to think about her.

The room was just like the last ten. Beige walls, the smell of antiseptic. But Stiles recognized the man. Oh, he had a few ‘return’ customers, but this one always stood out.

He was young, for one. Well, younger than most he worked with. His hair was black and half of his body was covered in a gnarled mess of burn scars. That wasn’t something you forgot easily.

Stiles didn’t know the name to go with the man. Harris never thought that it was important to give them that information, that would have been disrespectful for the Alphas.

He blinked, eyes feeling heavy and dry. Lately all he wanted to do was sleep.

He could remember seeing the Silence of the Lambs with his dad back in another life. The masks on the Alphas always reminded him of that movie…

He was just getting ready when a nurse came in.

Stiles knew her. Melissa.

“Hello, love,” she said. Her eyes were dark, Stiles didn’t want to meet them. She was the one who found Heather.

He just nodded his head, fiddling with the string of his pants. She was kind of… motherly. He didn’t really remember his own mom, but Melissa was just that sort of person.

“Your last?” she asked, nodding her head towards the body on the bed.

Stiles nodded again. He used to talk a lot. He was certain… But that was a long time ago.

“Well, good luck then.”

She closed the door on her way out, making Stiles’ throat close up a bit. The hospital had an open door policy for medical matings, which meant that anyone walking by could see him doing… doing his job. It was a small kindness, but it didn’t feel any less surreal.

Stiles sighed. Having that thin line of wood between him and the world was novel, but he didn’t know how to feel about it.

He slid his pants down, lubing his fingers and fingering his hole until he was relaxed enough. After a day like this, he didn’t need much.

His muscles hurt as he climbed on the bed, straddling the still form under him. Closing his eyes in relief when he didn’t have to shiver at the first touch.

Sometimes he dreamed about fucking dead people.

It didn’t feel like that now, though. Opposed to most of the patients, this one wasn’t cold. Maybe it was thanks to him being younger, but Stiles always felt relieved when the skin under his hand wasn’t cool and clammy like the rest.

He guided the man’s erection to his hole, sinking down with a hiss. It didn’t hurt exactly, but he was already oversensitive from the previous knottings.

Mr. Burn had a nice, big cock. Stiles would have liked imagining an Alpha like this when he was younger. When he still thought he had a choice. But now it just made him more disgusted with himself. 

Such a fucking  _ popper _ .

His thighs trembled as he lifted himself up, letting gravity pull him down again. He didn’t know what got into him, but he put his hands on the man’s chest, feeling the steady, slow heartbeat under the skin.

Usually he made sure to touch the patients as little as possible.

But… but they weren’t so… warm.

“Do you guys even enjoy this?” he asked under his breath. Maybe it was the closed door that made him so talkative.

There was no reply of course. Not like he expected one.

“I don’t,” he said, just for good measure. The defiance in his voice surprised him.

He squeezed his eyes together, muscles working on autopilot. Lift and drop. Lift and drop.

The thin plastic collar around his neck - nothing more than a glorified ziplock with a tag on it - scratched against his skin as he swallowed. He was so tired.

“I didn’t want this, you know? I…” he had no idea when he started crying. He hadn't done that in a long time. Not even when Heather died, and she had been his only friend. 

Except maybe she didn’t think the same. Otherwise she wouldn’t have gone ahead and slit her wrists in a fucking janitor’s closet with a stolen scalpel.

“We were supposed to be happy…” Stiles whispered. 

He put the twitch of the man’s thick neck down to reflex.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, many thanks to the lovely Emma!

Stiles was alone in the corridor, it seemed endless with locked doors on both sides.

He knew that there was something wrong with him only wearing a paper gown, he knew that, but he couldn’t… he couldn’t remember what.

He started walking, the tiles feeling cold enough under his naked feet that his bones hurt with it.

A door was open a little farther, and even though every single one was the same, he still knew who’s room it was. Mr. Burn victim. His steps faltered a bit. He shouldn’t go there. He was… that man was dangerous. He wasn’t like the others and that was scary. 

Stiles continued walking, unable to stop his body from moving forward.

It was getting hard to breath. The lights were on in the room, but when he stepped in it wasn’t Mr. Burn victim in the bed. It was Gerard.

Stiles’ heart thumped out of rhythm, all of his muscles screaming with tension.

Gerard looked exactly like he did when he was alive, wrinkled, cruel face with his little, blue pig-eyes. There was blood dripping down his chin as he smiled.

“Come on darling, you do have some marital responsibilities.”

There was a stab of pain in his shoulder, and when Stiles looked over, he could see a slowly growing red stain there. 

No. 

Not again.

The door banged shut behind him.

***

He startled awake, seeing Harris at the door.

“Get going already,” the man said, rapping his knuckles against the wood way more loudly than necessary.

Stiles closed his eyes, trying to just breath as he listened to the man walking down the corridor, opening the doors one-by-one.

He really should get going though - breakfast was not going to wait for him.

***

The cafeteria wasn’t too full, those who had strictly scheduled jobs have already left. Thankfully Harris wasn’t a morning person, preferring to stay on his ass until at least nine. 

Breakfast was oatmeal that looked a bit gray under the neon lights. The tv hanging in the corner behind a sheet of plexi was on, showing some morning talk show. Stiles was sitting just close enough to hear.

_ “... and that’s about it. Our next guest is Jennifer Blake, spokesperson of the Argent Corporation! Hello, Jennifer, how are you doing?” _

Stiles stopped mid motion, spoon halfway to his mouth. Oh.

_ “Hi, Julia! Thank you so much for the invitation!” the woman said smiling, waving a bit to the studio audience. _

_ “Thank you for coming, I’m sure you are busy, especially with all the press around Senator Calavera’s proposal…” _

_ “Oh, yes. It’s been a very long process, but we are happy with the results.” _

_ “The Argent Corporation have been asked to consult the Senator about omega issues, is that right?” _

_ “Yeah, we had the pleasure of helping the Senator along the way, providing her with information to make sure that the bill is the best it can be,” Jennifer said, smoothing her hand over her skirt and taking a sip of water. _

_ “Soooo, are you really planning to rob omegas of their children?” Julia asked, eliciting a round of laughter from the audience. _

_ Jennifer chuckled. _

_ “Of course not. I know some ‘omega rights’ groups are spreading a lot of misinformation about our work, but that is absolutely ridiculous. What the Argent Corporation - and Senator Calavera - want is a safety net for widowed omegas,” she explained, smiling.  _

Stiles blinked, finally lifting his spoon all the way. The oatmeal didn’t taste like anything.

_ “Under the current legislation, widowed omegas only receive care if they are childless. We think that this care should be extend to those with children too, providing the Alpha’s family can’t or won’t care for them,” Jennifer said seriously, the perfect picture of concern. _

_ Julia nodded in understanding. _

_ “Omegas are natural caregivers, it’s coded into their DNA. That’s just a fact of biology. Ironically, what they are not very good at, is taking care of themselves without the loving guidance of an Alpha.” _

_ “So true,” Julia said, followed by a murmur of agreement from the crowd. _

_ Jennifer smiled. _

_ “The Argent Corporation already has a longstanding history with providing care for widowed omegas, we give them a place to live, a purpose in the service of their community…” _

_ There was a round of applause. Julia looked moved. _

_ “And, if the new legislation passes, we would like to extend that care if needed. Omegas with children - even if their Alpha passed away - are considered emancipated, and sadly, that is not always the best decision. We plan to implement a buddy system that would pay close attention to these omegas, and if they struggle, we would like to integrate them into one of our institutions. The children would be placed with relatives, or taken into foster care…” _

_ Julia looked like she wanted to ask something, but Jennifer quickly continued. _

_ “We know it sounds harsh, but our company firmly believes in the traditional values of our nation. And if you think about it, wouldn’t they be happier in foster homes that can provide them with role models of all dynamics? Under the current laws, there are thousands of children left in broken homes with a struggling, misguided omega parent who is too emotionally unstable to provide them with…” _

Harris kicked Stiles’ chair - he didn’t even notice him coming over.

“Get your ass up,” he said.

Stiles looked at his tray, his bowl was still half full.

Harris rolled his eyes.

“Chop-chop! The clock is ticking, Stilinski. It’s not my fault that you’re too stupid to eat while watching tv… And you idiots are supposed to be good with multitasking,” he said, already walking towards the door.

Stiles sighed, getting up.

He wasn’t hungry anyway.

***

Stiles couldn’t help glancing at Harris’ clipboard from time to time. He couldn’t read that chicken scratch of a writing, but he could read the numbers… Still, there was no sign of the one he was looking for.

He didn’t know why he even tried. He should have been grateful that he hadn’t visited Mr. Burn victim in over a month - that man always… always made him feel weird. It was hard to think about climbing on him and sitting on his cock as a job.

But a part of him wanted to…

No. It was better like this.

He was just finishing up his third patient when he could hear his handler on the phone. Harris sounded incredulous, obviously arguing with someone.

Stiles couldn’t hear what he was talking about, but the irritation was clear in his voice, and that never meant good for him. Just as he expected, Harris barged in just as he was getting off the Alpha, his flaccid, wet cock plopping down onto his sunken, hairy belly. The old man moaned. He was conscious, but just barely, hooked up to life support and looking up at Stiles with pale, filmy eyes. Stiles shivered.

Harris didn’t let him get his pants on.

“Come on, get into the shower,” he snarled, making Stiles stop in his tracks. It was too early for a shower. Harris always made him shower when he wanted to go outside and grab a smoke during lunch break.

“Come  _ on _ , or I will drag you there myself and show a bar of soap up your dirty asscunt.”

Stiles flinched, grabbing his clothes and taking off towards the showers.

Something was wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Emma who keeps me going! *_*

Harris was fuming. Stiles tried to keep out of his way as much as possible, but it was hard.

They were going somewhere. This has never happened before - stopping before his rounds were done - he had to finish them even when Heather died. He had had to stay late, doing her patients too.

Stiles knew he should shut his mouth and just roll with things, but he was getting scared.

“Where are we going… um, Sir?”

Harris gave him a nasty look in the rearview mirror.

“You would like to know, wouldn’t you?” the man sneered, the contempt making Stiles shrink in on himself. “Why don’t  _ you  _ tell me? I mean, this is the first time since I started working here that an Alpha put in a mating request for a public omega…”

Stiles… he didn’t know what to do. That was not possible.

“So, why don’t you tell me where you managed to meet an Alpha willing to mate with a fucking popper?”

“I… I didn’t… who?”

Harris snorted, turning his eyes back to the road.

“What does it matter? The paperwork checked out, so congratulation of being a claimed omega.  _ Again _ .”

It was hard to breath.

***

He tried to pay attention to where they were going. The hospital wasn’t in the best neighborhood, but Harris was taking them downtown. There were a lot of skyscrapers and luxury apartment buildings.

This couldn’t be happening.

Stiles felt shaky and cold. His ears were ringing.

He just couldn’t wrap his head around it. Why would an Alpha - any Alpha - decided to mate someone who… who had been used like he was? They were constantly going on and on and on about purity, it made zero sense for someone to do this.

Before he could figure out a solution, the car was rolling into an underground parking lot. 

Harris dragged him to the elevator, pulling him along by the elbow.

It was only when he pushed the button for the top floor and the doors closed that Stiles really started to get anxious.

“I… I don’t have…” he swallowed. The wall of the elevator was made of mirrors. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw himself like this.

Fuck. Fuck he looked awful; his skin was white and too thin, like a sheet of paper crumpled one too many times, oversized clothes hanging off his boney frame... He couldn’t do this. He didn’t even have proper shoes on, just the crocks he used in the hospital.

He didn’t even have underwear.

Harris hit him on the head with his clipboard, making him suck in a startled gulp of air. Stiles didn’t even notice when he stopped breathing.

“If you faint, I swear to god I will kick your body all the way to the door.”

Stiles nodded, hands fisted in the hem of his shirt.

It must be a misunderstanding.

That alpha is only going to look at him and realize what a mistake he made. And that will be it.

The elevator dinged, the doors opening to a short corridor with a single door. Penthouse.

Stiles felt dizzy, standing by the door while Harris rang the bell. It played a tune that sounded sort of pretentious. Not like he had any right to judge.

He didn’t know what he expected when the door opened. Well, a familiar face, at least, someone who had seen him in passing and had some sick urge to play games with his life.

The man in the door was completely strange to him.

Oh, he was handsome, with dark hair and a little goatee that made him look like a cross between a supermodel and a supervillain. The Alpha charisma was rolling off of him in waves, strong enough that Stiles could practically see Harris’ demeanor changing.

“Alpha Hale, my name is Adrian Harris from the local POPO center. I’ve been told to bring an omega here, but I’m sure there was some sort of misund…”

The Alpha didn’t even look at him, eyes cutting to Stiles the second he could see him. 

His eyes were very blue. 

“You must be Stiles,” he said, talking over Harris like the beta wasn’t even there.

Stiles blinked, swaying on his feet and wondering why everything was suddenly so dark...

***

For a disoriented second, he had no idea where he was when he finally managed to open his eyes again. There was a floaty feeling in his head and it was… very warm.

“I will have him checked out by a doctor,” the Alpha said, the words resonating through Stiles’ ear, which didn’t make any sense.

“I can assure you, Alpha Hale, we provide our omegas with regular medi…” Harris stuttered, sounding flustered.

“Sure, you do,” the man said dismissively.

The rumble of his voice was kind of comforting, enough so that Stiles couldn’t even panic when he realized that he was actually in the Alpha’s arms, head pillowed against his broad chest.

“Sir, I…”

“I think that will be enough of your…  _ services _ .”

“But…”

Harris couldn’t finish, because the Alpha just turned around and walked inside, shutting the door with his heel.

Stiles could hear his handlers indignant cursing just outside and it made him wince.

“So you’re awake.”

Stiles froze, heart beating heavy like war drums on the losing side of the battle.

“Can you stand?”

He wasn’t sure, but nodded his head anyway. That way he could run. Or hide.

The Alpha put him down carefully, keeping a hand on his elbow to make sure that he was steady until it became apparent that Stiles wasn’t going to black out again.

“I…”

“When did you last eat?”

Stiles kind of wanted to see the man’s face, to judge his mood, his intentions, but at the same time he just couldn’t make himself look up.

“Breakfast,” he said, flinching when the man clucked his tongue in annoyance. The Alpha didn’t acknowledge the reaction.

“Alright. I think i have some leftovers from Sunday. Sit down before you fall on your face,” he said, already out of the room.

Stiles looked around, finally gathering the courage to lift his head.

Wow. The place was enormous, screaming of professional interior design. It made him feel like a dirty ragdoll.

He sat down on the couch gingerly. What if he didn’t shower well enough? What he leaked Alpha come all over the fabric? His brain was going in hysteric circles, around and around and around…

“I take it you don’t remember me?” came the man’s voice from the kitchen, followed by a microwave’s door closing.

Stiles licked his lips and shook his head, realizing a second too late that the Alpha couldn’t see him.

“No,” he blurted out, eyes glued to his dirty crocks on the plush rug. He hoped he didn’t drag in something nasty…

“Hm… Understandable. The last time we met I was in rather poor shape,” the man said. The microwave dinged.

Someone from the hospital then. But that made even less sense than a complete stranger. Anyone who knew him had to know what… what his job was.

“It’s fine, I’m sure you will figure it out sooner or later,” the Alpha told him, coming back with a steaming bowl of thick soup on a tray.

It felt surreal to be… to be served by someone. Especially someone like that.

Their hands met for a second when he took the tray, the man’s skin feeling warm and smooth.

Oh.

“Mr. Burn victim.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the love for Emma!

“Mr. Burn victim.”

Shit. Shit, he didn’t just blurt that out, did he? That was very disrespectful, he was in so much trouble…

Before he could work himself up into a full blown panic, the Alpha made a funny face.

“Well, that’s one way to put it… Truth be told, I prefer Peter,” he said, like it wasn’t a big deal that Stiles called him something offensive like that.

Peter. Peter Hale. It was weird to finally put a name to the man. Stiles wondered if all those times he had to provide him with a willing hole would have been different if he knew it.

“Eat up,” the Alpha reminded him. Stiles did. It was hot, but tasted nice, leagues better than what they were given in the POPO.

Peter leaned back in his armchair, looking comfortable to watch him. Stiles stubbornly did not look up from his food.

“We have a long day ahead. I will take you for a check up, then we will have to get you registered,” he said casually. Stiles swallowed his spoonful of soup, trying to stop his hands from trembling.

This was really happening. He thought… He thought that Peter might just want a fuck and send him back afterwards. But. But if he was to be registered, it meant an official mating. He could still remember when Gerard took him to regi… No. Better not think about that.

He wanted to ask why. Why him? Why now? But uncertainty tied his tongue. He still had no idea where exactly he stood with this Alpha.

***

Peter made him shower after he finished eating, claiming that he smelled like a pharmacy.

The water pressure was amazing, and he turned the water as hot as he could take it. More times than not they only had lukewarm at the hospital. Peter had a lot of stuff in his bathroom. Shampoo, conditioner, shower gel, bubble bath, three different kinds of body lotions. For a second or two Stiles wasn’t even sure he was allowed to used them.

Then again, the Alpha would probably like it if he smelled like him. And that would be good.

He showered, washed his hair and by the time he stepped out behind the frosted glass, there was a set of clothes left on the counter, his own gone.

It made him freeze for a second. He didn’t even notice Peter coming in… It was completely irrational, he’d fucked the man countless times, but. It was different now. He didn’t know how he felt about it.

The clothes were big, but comfortable. A soft pair of jeans and a dress shirt. 

At least there was underwear.

***

Peter drove a black Camaro. It was the nicest car Stiles had ever sat in, and for a while it almost made him forget what they were doing. 

The Alpha didn’t talk to him much. A few times Stiles thought he saw him wanting to say something, but he held himself in check. Maybe he didn’t think Stiles was worth conversing with.

The medical center was nothing like the hospital where he worked. Sure that had been decent, but this place screamed money. There weren’t wrung out nurses or long lines at the reception.

“We’re here for Dr. Deaton,” Peter told the pretty beta at the counter. 

She frowned.

“I think his hours are already over,” she said, obviously uncomfortable with contradicting an Alpha, but Peter just winked at her.

“We have an appointment.”

The girl blushed, clicking around on her computer and then smiling at the Alpha brilliantly.

“Ah, yes, Alpha Hale. My apologies. Do you need me to…?”

Peter grinned, pushing himself away from the front desk and putting a warm hand on the small of Stiles’s back - making him shiver.

“No need, Ms. I know the way.”

***

Dr. Deaton seemed okay. He was calm and collected and very professional. But that didn’t make Stiles any less anxious about the whole thing.

“Please strip down to the waist,” he said. Stiles nodded dumbly, unable to keep his eyes from cutting to Peter leaning against the wall.

The Alpha huffed out a breath.

“I think I will go outside.”

Dr. Deaton held up his hand.

“Unfortunately the clinic’s regulations forbid me from doing an examination on an omega without his or her Alpha, or a relative present,” he said, not phazed by the least by Peter’s muttered ‘For fuck’s sake.’

“But, we do have a curtain,” he said. He pulled it out, cutting the examination table from view. It was a lot more than Stiles could hope for, and just enough to get him body in motion again.

Dr. Deaton hummed when he was finally shirtless.

“You are quite a bit underweight, Mr. Stilinski,” he said, probably for the Alpha’s benefit. “Regular meals would do a lot of good for you.”

He did a thorough check, listening to Stiles’ heart, his lungs, checking his throat… It was a lot more than the cursory exams they did at the POPO. The only thing they had been anal about there was the reproductive testing. That was never fun.

The man told him to get dressed when they were finished, opening the curtain again and nodding at Peter to come closer. He picked up a few folders from his desk.

“I’m not going to lie,” he said, looking at both of them. “You are obviously very overstressed. Your weight is low, your heartbeat is elevated. Not dangerous yet, but you will need a lot of rest and peace. And also, a new prescription for birth control, because frankly, I’m appalled by what they were giving you.” he explained, glancing at Peter meaningfully. 

“I’ve got your files from… that institution. Everything seems fine, but I would suggest some counseling…”

The Alpha scoffed.

“Sure, and can you refer us to someone who will take a public omega and who will not write everything off as him needing to have children as soon as possible?”

Dr. Deaton made a face.

“Point taken. But at the least I suggest you engage in a lot of scenting,” he said, making Stiles choke on air and turn bright red when both men looked at him.

The doctor didn’t seem bothered.

“Your job… required your body to constantly produce hormones that are tied to mating. Mating is a very exhausting experience, and performing it with such frequency threw your hormone balance out the window. But, Alpha hormones are known to reduce stress in omegas, and promote a healthy balance, especially if it’s with a constant partner.”

“Snuggling,” Peter said, deadpan.

Dr. Deaton cracked a smile.

“Why yes, Peter. In my professional opinion both of you could do with a lot of snuggling.”

***

Stiles was a bit dazed as they left. Just the idea of snuggling was foreign. As much as he wanted to avoid it, he couldn’t help remembering to happier times, when his father was alive. They would always watch the tv together, bundled close. Especially after his mom died - it had been the only thing keeping him sane.

He didn’t want to remember that, it made him… angry at the world. At everything. It made him bold.

“Why… Why are you doing this?” he asked as they made their way to the car.

The Alpha stopped, rounding on him. Stiles took a panicked step back, but Peter put a hand on the back of his neck, the small contact making his knees week.

“Let’s get you registered first.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, huge thanks to the absolutely lovely Emma!

The courthouse wasn’t the same one where he was registered with Gerard. He didn’t know if that was good or bad. On one hand, he didn’t want to be reminded of that time, but on the other… it felt wrong to not have closure.

They didn’t go to the official first. Stiles did remember that part very, very well.

The administrator was a little, graying beta. He had a beer belly and was sweating a lot. Peter didn’t look like he was happy to be in his dingy little office and it set Stiles on edge. As much as the Alpha felt like this was an annoyance, it was important for him.

“Take a seat, Alpha Hale,” the man said. He looked a bit like a pig. He didn’t offer Stiles a seat, but there were two chairs and Peter motioned for him to take one.

“Let’s do this as fast as possible,” Peter said, looking up at the neon lighting and then blinking with a frown from the too bright light.

“Sure. As you know, there is a checklist. It had been e-mailed to you when you made the appointment. I hope you had time to…”

“Yes, yes,” Peter told him, rubbing his forehead. Stiles tried to stop his legs from jiggling, but couldn’t. This didn’t sound so good.

“Alright, let’s just go over it,” the administrator said.

“Is the omega allowed to go out alone?”

“Yes.”

“Is he allowed to meet other Alphas alone?”

“Yes,” Peter said with a sigh. 

Oh. That. That was usually a no. Or so he’d heard. It was certainly a resolute no with Gerard. Everything was.

The administrator seemed almost as surprised as Stiles did.

“Um. Even if said Alpha is not related?”

“ _ Yes _ .”

The guy coughed awkwardly.

“Of course, of course… Let’s see. Does the omega have permission to apply for a licence?”

Stiles couldn’t help glancing at Peter. He was supposed to get his licence back before… When his dad was still alive. But then everything went to shit, and Gerard wasn’t big on giving him any kind of independence.

“Yes he has,” Peter said, and Stiles didn’t even notice how nervous he was until it all rushed out of him with a sigh. The Alpha looked over, raising an eyebrow in question, so he quickly averted his eyes. Still, it felt like something was loosening in his chest for a second. It quickly evaporated. He wasn’t sure what to do with this. Even just the thought of going out alone - maybe even driving a car - had him on the edge of anxiety, even though he  _ wanted  _ it.

“And…”

The Alpha cut him off, looking like he was done with the whole situation, making Stiles jump a bit with the obvious annoyance in his voice.

“And he has my permission to leave the state, apply for college and to get a job. Are we done?”

Stiles could barely breath. He must have misheard all that. He must have.

“Sir,” the administrator said, sounding close to affronted and giving Stiles a nasty look, like this was somehow all his fault. “As someone who’s done this for twenty years, let me give you a bit of advice. I know some people are… let’s just say, going on a radically liberal route nowadays, but matings with… too many liberties are not good for either party.”

Peter gave him a long, measured look before standing, pulling Stiles along too.

“Come on, I think we’re done here,” he said, looking back at the man over his shoulder.

“And  _ I _ would advise you not to give unsolicited advice to Alphas about their omegas, unless you want your spine snapped.”

Stiles shivered. He never heard Peter sound like that, like he meant every word and would be  _ happy  _ to go through with it.

***

The room where the ceremony actually took place was on the second floor - spacious and airy, much nicer than that little hole with the administrator.

Stiles was surprised to see two people there other than the mating officiant.

One of them was Dr. Deaton and the other is a young Alpha woman, around Stiles age.

Peter guided him inside, shaking hands with the doctor and pulling the girl into an awkward hug.

“Stiles, this is my niece Cora,” he said. “Cora, this is Stiles.”

She didn’t seem overly friendly, but the way she raised her eyebrow was so Peter that it settled Stiles’ nerves a bit.

“Glad to meet you, Alpha,” Stiles said, trying to seem polite and not like he was on the verge on a panic attack constantly.

She nodded, then looked back at her uncle.

“He’s scrawny.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve been told. Thanks for doing this.”

Her whole face transformed when she broke out a little grin.

“Oh, Mom and Laura will kill you for this. I can’t wait.”

***

Stiles zoned out for most of the ceremony. He knew he should be paying attention, but to be honest he didn’t know how to do that while not going into hysterics.

The officiant was a nice older lady, and her voice was nice, but that was all he could understand until it was time to get his collar. The lady paused, giving a little ‘oh’ like she was embarrassed. That was the sound that finally got Stiles’ brain back online.

Something was wrong.

Peter was looking at him critically, and he wanted to shrink under his gaze, taking a startled step back when the man pulled a little swiss knife from his pocket.

“Stay,” he said simply, making him freeze.

Peter stepped close, palming the side of his neck carefully. 

Oh. Oh, he still had his plastic collar on. Stiles could feel himself turn red. It almost slipped his mind, with a new mating looming on the horizon, that he was wearing it. Now it was even more obvious why the administrator was so against… everything.

His breath hitched as Peter lifted the blade to his throat. Stiles sucked in a gulp of air trying to stay as still as possible. Having an Alpha so near with a sharp object was terrifying.

“Steady,” Peter whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, and the next second he could feel the cold blade against his skin.

Stiles closed his eyes tight, expecting pain, but there was only the sound of plastic snapping and something falling away.

“Now, that’s better,” the Alpha said, stepping back and putting his knife away in one fluid motion. Stiles could finally breath again, though he still felt shaky.

The officiant lady smiled.

“Wonderful! Who has the collar?”

Cora stood, bringing a black jewel box over and opening it.

The collar didn’t look anything like Stiles expected. Gerard had gone the traditional way, getting him a thick, heavy leather one. He could still remember how it felt like the weight of the world by the end.

This… this was also leather, but the similarities ended there. This one was red and shiny-smooth; barely wider than a finger and thin enough to look almost like fabric. The small, silver tag hanging from it was dainty enough to be mistaken for a pendant.

Peter took it out slowly, holding it out for him to see before buckling it around his neck. His fingers were warm as they grazed his pulse point.

“And with this sign of protection, and mutual dedication, I proclaim you mated until death do you apart.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the amazing Emma for all the help, she is the best! :D

He couldn’t remember the way back to Peter’s. To… home. To his embarrassment he had to sit down while Cora and Dr. Deaton signed their mating certificate as witnesses. He shouldn’t have done that. A good omega probably wouldn’t have.

But who was he kidding? He wasn’t a good omega. He was a popper caught up in something that yanked the floor right out from under his feet.

Peter left him alone while he’d sat there. The Alpha’d chatted a bit with the ‘guests’ barely even looking at him, and only pulling him up when it was obviously time to go.

Stiles felt like he was drifting in the wind, directionless like a torn plastic bag.

Before he knew it, they were back in the apartment. His feet were slow as he walked in, dragging on the hardwood. There was only one thing to do after a mating, and as ridiculous as it sounded from someone like him, he wasn’t sure if he was ready.

Peter closed the door, and in the quiet it almost sounded like a shot.

Stiles wanted to ask again, to know why this was all happening, but as bold as he felt before, it was like all the fight had been beaten out of him. He had an Alpha again. Whatever that meant. He wasn’t sure anymore.

“Do you know how to cook?” Peter asked, sounding casual as he walked into the bedroom. Stiles didn’t want to follow him in there.

It took him a second to remember to answer.

“I… yes. I mean, I haven’t in a while, but I know how.”

“Good,” came the answer from inside, and thankfully the Alpha appeared a second later, changing his suit pants and shirt for a soft looking hoodie and some track pants. He looked… almost approachable.

“I’m going to go for a run, if you can make something from what you find in the fridge, good. If not, we will order something in,” he said, already pulling his shoes on.

Stiles watched him, blinking slowly. This didn’t make any sense. His life didn’t make any sense.

“You. You’re going out?” 

Peter raised an eyebrow.

“You have an objection?” he asked, the sound of his voice somehow making the petite collar around his neck tighten a fraction.

“No! No, of course not,” Stiles told him in a hurry. By the time he finished talking, the Alpha was already out the door.

He stood there for a long moment, looking at it, not knowing what to do.

For one, he could… he could go out that door and… and just go. Peter said he was allowed. Yeah, sure, there was an ID chip somewhere in his collar, but the Alpha didn’t put in restriction when he was registered.

On the other hand. On the other hand, he was terrified. This wasn’t supposed to be how it went. Even disregarding Ger- no, not thinking about that. But. But even normal matings were supposed to go differently. Peter was supposed to. To actually mate him.

In the end, he shook himself, trying to chase away the numbness creeping up on him and went to the kitchen. He couldn’t remember ever seeing one this new and high-tech. He hoped he still remembered how to do this.

Time to get to work.

***

Peter didn’t have much in the fridge, just some chicken nuggets, some potatoes and a very sad looking pair of tomatoes. Stiles did the best he could, and was surprisingly happy when the door opened just as he was getting the small kitchen table ready.

The Alpha stopped as soon as he stepped in, sniffing the air. He grinned at Stiles as he wandered closer to investigate what was on the menu.

“That looks deceptively good,” he said, squeezing the back of Stiles neck on his way to the bathroom. His touch was shockingly warm, Stiles couldn’t get used to it.

“I will grab a quick shower,” Peter said. “There’s some wine in one of the cupboards.”

***

Dinner was nice. Nicer than any Stiles had in recent memory. Sure, his belly still did nervous flip-flops from time to time, but he couldn’t help it, the feeling of not finding solid ground just wouldn’t go away.

Peter thanked him for the food and lingered around in the kitchen as he took down the table until the hair was standing on the back of his neck with the tension. Finally the Alpha just huffed and plopped down to the couch, surfing the channels while he did the dishes.

Doing this - regular, everyday housework - was calming. Even back when he was with Gerard… even then, it had been something safe that he could fall back to, no matter how hard things were.

He was reluctant after he was done. This neverending loop of indecision set him on edge, but didn’t help in finding the right direction.

“Stiles, come here,” Peter told him when he was wiping the counters down for the second time.

Maybe it would be done now.

His hands were shaking a bit as he walked into the living room, but the Alpha seemed preoccupied with the tv. He was watching a soap opera, of all things.

Peter patted the cushion next to himself.

“Come,” he said again. It was never good to make an Alpha repeat himself.

Stiles sat down gingerly, his body nothing more than a solid line of tension and he couldn’t help flinching when Peter threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him against his side.

“Calm down, for fucks sake,” he said, eyeroll audible, even though Stiles tediously kept his gaze on the screen.

It was hard. He couldn’t stop trembling. The episode was almost over by the time he managed to make his muscles relax. Peter smelled good. Clean and… and very Alpha. It was hard to imagine that just a few weeks ago he was just another broken body in a hospital.

“Now, that’s better,” Peter said under his breath, hand slowly starting to rub up and down his arm.

It made him shiver, but not with the repulsion he expected.

Stiles fell asleep just like that. He didn’t dream.

***

He was roused when Peter lifted him, carrying his body effortlessly into the bedroom. Stiles knew he should be worried about that, but he was tired. He was always tired.

The covers felt incredibly soft and cool against his skin. So nice.

He let Peter nudge him this way and that, pulling his jeans off, his socks. He didn’t know why he wasn’t worried, it might have been the Alpha pheromones he’d been basking in all night.

Peter didn’t take his underwear, which was good.

Stiles yawned as the Alpha slowly and carefully unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off his shoulders.

He noticed when the man paused, but didn’t pay attention to it, not until he felt the first feather light touch against the mass of scars on his right shoulder.

His eyes popped open, breath stuck on his chest as every fiber in his body screamed at him to get away. He grabbed onto Peter’s wrist, yanking it away from his skin as he pushed himself up against the headboard, chest wheezing with the need to breath. 

His brain went blank, ears filled with a sound like a heart monitor going flat. There were gray spots dancing in his vision.

Peter was talking to him. He was sure, but his voice sounded very far away.

“...iles? Stiles!”

The note of command behind his name snapped his brain back online, and he took a shuddering breath, lungs burning.

“Yes.”

Peter looked… Stiles didn’t know him well enough to tell what he was feeling. He was a bad omega.

“Stiles, calm down.”

He didn’t know why, but he started laughing. It was an ugly sound, like broken glass grinding together. It took him a few moments to get himself to stop.

Peter was sitting a feet away, cross legged, eyes narrowed as he studied him.

He couldn’t help covering his shoulder with his hand to stop that gaze from touching him.

“Is that supposed to be a mating bite?” Peter asked, nodding towards the mess on his skin.

Stiles almost started laughing again.

“Yes.”

He could understand the confusion. Mating bites were supposed to be the ultimate sign of an Alpha’s ownership, placed during the first knotting. Something that couldn’t be taken off like a collar.

Peter frowned with disgust. He probably wanted an explanation.

“He…” Stiles chuckled, finding everything funny all of a sudden. “He couldn’t knot. He was too old,” he said.

Oh, Gerard could fuck him. That’s why viagra was invented, but even Alphas weren’t quite resilient enough to pop a knot at 83. There was no medicine for that.

Peter didn’t seem to find it so funny.

“But he tried, obviously.”

Stiles nodded, his crazed cheer evaporating. He did try. Over and over until the bedsheets were swimming in Stiles’ blood and he was blind with agony.

“Unsurprising,” Peter said, though it didn’t make any sense. Stiles was too tired to ask what he meant, suddenly so cold that his teeth were clicking together.

The Alpha took one look at him, and moved back, sliding under the covers.

“Come here before you go into shock.”

Was he doing that? Maybe.

Stiles obeyed. Good omegas obeyed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who crawled out of the gutter to update this fic!
> 
> Thank you for Emma for helping me with it! :D

For the first time in a long, long while, Stiles wasn’t woken in the morning by Harris throwing his door open and spitting insults at him. It was unfathomable that that was his reality just yesterday.

Just yesterday. He couldn’t wrap his head around it, but maybe it was better like this. He wasn’t sure what he would have done given fair warning.

The bed was warm - almost uncomfortably - but for a few glorious moments he was content plastered against Peter’s body. It didn’t last forever, of course. Stiles shuddered, the crawling terror along his skin was an old friend by now; he knew how to deal with it.

Back in the hospital he had a routine. Scrubbing. Scrubbing was good.

He slid out of bed, hesitating for a second, perched on the edge of the mattress. He wasn’t under the delusion that Peter didn’t wake up, but when there was no order for him to get back he slipped out and into the bathroom.

He turned the water to as hot as he could bear, skin turning red in short order, the stall filling with steam thick enough to make him forget about the outside world for a little bit. 

He didn’t use the fancy shower gel this time, going instead for the simple soap he found under the sink, and then just rubbed and rubbed and rubbed until his whole body felt stripped of skin. He knew, realistically that it didn’t change anything, but there was something calming in the habit, in washing himself again and again. 

Stiles had no idea how long he’d been inside, his ritual broken when the door opened, the sudden draft disturbing his private little cloud. He stopped, shutting off the water as fast as he could. Maybe he’d taken too long. He didn’t know what kind of boiler Peter had, but he didn’t want to think about what he would get if he wasted all the hot water.

He held his breath, watching through the frosted glass of the shower as Peter moved in the bathroom, puttering around and then taking a piss. Stiles listened to the splashing, the sound somehow strangely intimate.

He didn’t dare take a breath until he was alone again, but he didn’t open the water back up, getting out of the shower carefully, a part of him paranoid of being ambushed.

His clothes were gone, replaced by a new pair of jeans and a long sleeved, soft henley. They fit better than the ones before, and for a second he wondered where Peter got them in such a short time.

There was a new toothbrush - still in the box - beside the sink.

***

Peter was in the kitchen, making eggs by the time he was finished. The sight of him - an Alpha working by the stove - made something in his belly twist. Stiles kind of wanted to get there and shoo him out to stop such an unnatural thing from happening.

Peter just took a look at him and rolled his eyes.

“As unbelievable it sounds, I can manage breakfast. I did actually survive before getting mated,” he said. 

Stiles flinched a little, realizing a second too late that there was no scorn in the man’s voice. Was Peter… trying to get a raise out of him? The concept seemed unfamiliar. He was an omega and Peter was an Alpha, and by their nature Stiles should always be quiet and subservient. That’s how things worked in the reality he knew.

“Don’t just stand there,” Peter told him, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Set the table if you want to it.”

Stiles twitched into motion, carefully maneuvering around the kitchen to get everything. He already did a little exploration yesterday, so he knew where to find the plates, the glasses… It was weird with the Alpha in the middle of it. It made him jittery, like he was walking on a minefield, and he could imagine all too well what would happen if he stepped wrong.

Peter was awfully still, just standing by the stow and flipping the eggs, not moving an inch. If… if this was a different world, Stiles would have thought that the Alpha was trying not to spook him.

He quickly chased the thought away. That kind of thinking would get him in trouble. He didn’t want to become too comfortable. That was a slippery slope with sharp rocks at the bottom.

Finally the food was ready and the table was set, and Peter let him serve it, when he noticed Stiles hovering by his elbow. It was only when the rich smell of - a bit overcooked - eggs reached his nose that Stiles realized how hungry he was. It made him pause. He couldn’t… he couldn’t remember the last time he was hungry.

Usually his belly was one little knot of anxiety with place for food, but. But this was different. He couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.

He jerked himself out of his stupor and plated the eggs. It wouldn’t do to make an Alpha wait.

***

“We have to go shopping,” Peter told him when they had finished eating and Stiles was done with the dishes.

He froze. He couldn’t. He hadn’t… He hadn’t been outside in what felt like years. Until their trip here with Harris yesterday it, always had been the short car ride from the POPO center to the hospital and back. 

People didn’t really like to see poppers out and about. Didn’t like the reminder that they existed.

He realized that must have been silent for a bit too long when Peter raised an eyebrow in question.

“Y-yes, Alpha,” he croaked out, throat feeling dry and rough.

The man huffed. 

“Like it or not, we do need some necessities now that you’re here, and I would rather have you with me to chose what you want.”

Stiles nodded jerkily and slipped his socked feet into his crocks. Oh. He didn’t even have shoes. It made him wonder though - it was better to think about that in the elevator, and not on going out, where there were… people.

That… that had to mean that Peter wasn’t expecting him? He couldn’t figure it out. Mating someone wasn’t something people rushed into. There were contracts. And courting. Sometimes even waiting a few years until the omega was of age.

Sure. Sure that didn’t apply to them, because Peter did none of that. They didn’t even have a contract. Not like that mattered. Stiles had no Alpha relative to sign it on his behalf, and had no properties of his own. Maybe there was a contract, but it had been signed by the people at the POPO as their legal guardians?

Before he could wrap his head around it, they were pulling into the parking lot at the mall. Just like that, Stiles was back to the brink of panic.

People would know. They would look at him, and they would see how many Alphas he fucked, how dirty he was, what… what he did…

Peter pulled him out of the car - gently but firmly - his hand hot and sure even through the fabric of his henley.

“Come on. Next time I will expect you to have a list, but for now we will just go after our nose.”

It was almost too easy to fall into step beside him.

***

Stiles was tired and shaky after the first store, but Peter was far from finished. They bought clothes, shoes, a laptop, a… a phone. He never had a phone. Even his dad didn’t get him one - omegas were usually seen as too… approachable if they had phones when they were still unmated.

He felt like he was about to throw up. This was too much, and his brain couldn’t stop whispering, telling him all the things he would have to do to earn it.

But. But Peter didn’t look like he cared, like it wasn’t any hardship to throw around that much money. It was disconcerting. Omegas were supposed to look closely at every dollar spent to make sure that they were causing as little hardship as possible to their Alphas.

He didn’t ask for anything, until they walked by a shop full of office supplies. He didn’t stop, exactly, but Peter noticed him slowing down.

“You need something from there?” he asked. Stiles bit his lip, about to shake his head, but then… then he realized how much they’ve already spent - even adding extra so the stuff would be delivered to the penthouse. Maybe…

He felt tired, and it made him bold.

“I… I will need a book for the... For the expenses. If you want to, I mean. If you want me to handle the groceries?” It was one of the first things they learnt in school. How to run a proper household.

Peter shrugged. 

“Alright, let’s get you a book. And some pens. Maybe we should order you a desk, you can’t exactly work at the coffee table…”

Stiles didn’t know what the warmth in his chest was, but he thought that maybe he could get used to it.

***

The last stop was the grocery store. Before they knew it, their cart was so full that even Peter looked like he had a bit of trouble steering it straight.

“Do we have everything?” he asked, for the first time sounding a bit annoyed. Stiles swallowed and tried not to take it personally. Cooking was an omega thing, and very few Alphas had the patience to suffer through selecting the best cabbage or piece of meat from a dozen.

Stiles was exhausted too, but the only thing he knew how to do was cook, and he needed the proper ingredients.

“I… I think? Oh! Vitamins.”

He could see them on the shelf just a few feet away, and he wanted to hit himself for forgetting. Omega vitamins were important. That was the second thing they’d learned in school.

Peter grabbed his arm and jerked him back with enough force to send his heart thudding in panic. He squeezed his eyes together, not knowing what he did wrong, but expecting the fallout.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please…” he didn’t even know what he was asking for. There was no stopping an Alpha when he… When he wanted to...

Whatever he expected, it never came.

“I’m not going to pay for fucking vitamins,” Peter growled out, turning on his heels and heading for the registers, pulling Stiles behind him.

He felt scared and numb and… confused.

No vitamins. Okay. Just breathe.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahahahahaha I tried.
> 
> Thank you, Emma for having my back!

He’d been skittish for the rest of the day, even after they were back home. His eyes were constantly searching for the door, for places where he could hide and he… he hated it. Stiles was surprised to realize a spark of anger burning in his chest. Omegas were never supposed to be angry, not at their Alphas. Not over some minor inconvenience. 

But a traitorous part of him hoped that… That this time would be different. That maybe - just maybe - he would be safe now. And that split second, where he thought Peter might do something to him shattered that fragile illusion.

Stiles felt stupid for believing it for even a second.

And the vitamins, too… it didn’t make any sense. Everybody knew that omegas were supposed to take them from the time they presented, to make sure they were healthy and ready to start a family. Sure, Stiles knew that Peter might not want to even fuck him, never mind get him pregnant, and he understood. He did.

He was just a popper and whatever flight of fancy made the Alpha claim him, it didn’t mean he thought that Stiles was worthy of those kind of things. He wasn’t sure he was worthy of it himself.

But. It felt like a slap in the face. Yes. Peter bought everything he could need. A lot of extravagant stuff too, and spent so much more than was necessary that not getting him the vitamins he needed to stay healthy? It was humiliating.

They got omega vitamins even at POPO and those guys did everything to cut down on costs.

***

Peter was watching him putter around in the kitchen, packing their groceries away. Stiles could feel the Alpha’s gaze on the back of his head, and it made his skin plucker with goosebumps. He was still jittery after the store, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or the sword of Damocles to fall. Something. His brain was doing weird loops.

“What will you be making for dinner?” the Alpha asked finally, making him jump.

“I…” 

Meatloaf. He wanted to make meatloaf. With mashed potatoes. But his tongue felt numb. 

“What would you like, Alpha?” he asked instead, without turning around. As much as it made him tick to have his back to the man, he wasn’t sure he could face him without crumbling.

“Doesn’t matter,” Peter said, sounding almost bored. Stiles’ fingers twitched. Okay. Okay, whatever.

“Maybe… meatloaf?”

“Sure, when do you have to start on that?”

Stiles licked his lips, eyes glued to a jar of nutella. Why did they buy nutella again? It wasn’t healthy. He didn’t even know if Peter liked nutella. Was there anyone who didn’t like it though?

“Stiles.”

Oh.

“Um.” He could lie. Peter wanted something. He could say he had to start right now. “In… an hour or so.”

He could hear the scrape of the chair against the floor as the man got up.

“Alright. Finish unpacking and then come to the bedroom.”

***

Stiles dragged his feet for as long as he could. Reorganizing the cupboards and cleaning the fridge - even though it wasn’t anywhere near dirty - but before he knew it he was out of things to do. 

The bedroom door was open. It was dark inside and he couldn’t help remember his dreams, heart beating like a bird’s - fast and thready. He was standing in front of the room and his feet just… wouldn’t move. It was irrational, but his brain was playing tricks, trying to convince him that if he took another step, it wouldn’t be Peter inside. It would be… no.

His vision was going gray and he felt like he was about to fall, grabbing at the doorframe, but before his knees buckled Peter was there with a steady arm around his waist, looking at him with those intense, blue eyes.

They were so different from Gerards. So very, very different.

Stiles closed his own eyes, the room spinning too much suddenly.

The Alpha lifted him up, as easy as breathing and a second later he was set down on the bed, gentle and careful. He couldn’t understand how he could have been so scared of those hands just a few hours ago.

Peter pulled his shirt off and then his own, curling around Stiles, letting his chest press up against his cold, shivering back. Stiles felt like his spine was made of razor blades, cutting his skin open.

Peter was warm and steady, his breathing even and... deep and… 

***

He slept, blessedly dreamless.

***

Stiles woke to being cold. He was shivering and feverish and didn’t understand what was happening at all. 

There was a deep ache thudding just behind his eyes, making it hard to keep them open, but the darkness made him nauseous. He was thirsty. So thirsty.

He got up on shaky legs, stumbling along the wall and holding onto it so he didn’t fall.

There was light in the living room. Not much, but still enough to make his headache blossom into something huge and horrible.

He could hear Peter talking to someone.

“Yeah. Yes, alright… I will keep you updated, doc,” he said.

Was someone sick? His brain was groggy and it took him a minute to figure out it was him.

Peter turned around just as he stepped out of the bedroom, and it only took him a second to be by his side, making Stiles jerk back. Even that hurt. Everything hurt.

“What are you doing up?” the man asked, sounding almost angry. Stiles’ fingers were trembling as he held onto the doorknob.

“I-” he had to swallow. His mouth felt like a desert. “Thirsty.” 

That was all he managed and Peter was already pushing him back towards the bed.

“I will get you a drink. Do  _ not  _ leave the bed. Understood?”

Stiles nodded, sitting on the edge of the mattress feeling like an idiot.

What was going on? He hadn’t… He couldn’t remember ever being this sick.

He didn’t move a muscle until Peter was back with a tall glass of water.

“Here you go,” he said, actually kneeling on the floor in front of him. Or maybe Stiles was just hallucinating, because that couldn’t have been right.

He drank. A small sip at first, and then all at once, until his belly churned, like he was about to throw up. The Alpha took the glass from him and then held onto his hands. His fingers felt hot against his chilly skin.

“What’s wrong with me?” Stiles asked, blinking in the darkness and trying to make out the man with little success. To his horror he could feel his eyes filling with tears. He was just… miserable.

Peter’s thumbs skimmed along his pulse.

“You’re sick. Nothing serious, I already checked in with Deaton. All we can do is wait it out. Won’t take more than a few days, I promise,” he said, and he… he sounded so fucking nice with the darkness softening his voice that Stiles started sobbing, doubling over with the force of it.

Peter caught him, his warm hands holding him close, rubbing along his back, letting him ruin his shirt. He shouldn’t be doing this. It was disrespectful. He was… he was supposed to… he wanted to make meatloaf, didn’t he? 

“That can wait,” Peter said quietly. He helped arrange Stiles’ trembling body on the bed. 

For a panicked moment he thought the Alpha would leave.

“Shh, I’m not going anywhere. Just try to rest.”

Stiles tried. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. He didn’t know how to stop crying.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said into his hair, making Stiles flich. What. That… What?

“For what happened in the store. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

Stiles burrowed closer. Everything was confusing, but Peter smelled like a kind of comfort that his body understood.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yiss! Update!

Stiles lost track of time, every cell in his body overwhelmed by pain and heat. Everything hurt, like he was stuck in hell, slowly burning to ashes. Maybe he deserved it, for what he’d done...

But. He wasn’t alone. Often, - when he felt most like his flesh was on fire - there was a cool palm on his forehead, or an ice cube pushed between his lips that chased the hurt away for a few blessed seconds.

He slept. Fretful and light, with nightmares in every corner of his mind just waiting for him to let his guard down. He dreamt of his dad. Of the day he died, the way he crumbled, scared and alone. He dreamt of Gerard. He dreamt of their claiming ceremony - when he was still hopeful on having a normal life where he would find his place in the world on an Alpha’s side. He dreamed about what happened afterwards. Of blood. And pain. Of his shoulder always - always - hurting under ragged scars that grew and thickened along his skin like a disease.

He didn’t know how many days passed. A voice in his head was telling him that it would only take a few days. Just a few days and he would get better. He promised…

It seemed like years.

***

The next time he opened his eyes - and actually saw his surroundings instead of some nightmarish hallucination - he was in bed. There was soft, greying light sneaking in beneath the drawn curtains, and he’s head was pillowed on Peter’s lap.

The Alpha was sleeping, sitting against the headboard. He looked tired, his face pale with shadows under his eyes.

Stiles got up slowly and just looked, feeling bold. Like this - with his face relaxed and tired lines around his mouth - he did look a bit like that body Stiles had to please in the hospital what felt like a lifetime ago. 

He reached out carefully and touched Peter’s hand, with just the very tip of his fingers. He was warm. Just like he’d been back then.

“Good morning,” the Alpha said, startling him out of his musing. Stiles jerked his hand back, but the man didn’t seem angry. “How are you feeling?”

Stiles swallowed, and actually took a moment to assess his body. He felt… relatively good. The pain was almost completely gone, with just a little ache left behind, lingering in the marrow of his bones.

“I’m… okay?”

Peter actually grinned, and for maybe the first time, Stiles realized how good looking he was. He had a sharp jawline and a straight nose. He had thick stubble overshadowing his goatee and it made him pause.

Did… did he actually stay with Stiles the whole time?

He licked his lips, fisting the sheets. He was only wearing a pair of boxers - not even his own, he didn’t think - but he didn’t really mind it.

“How long was I sick?”

Peter stretched, his shirt riding up and revealing the dark treasure trail on his belly. Stiles averted his eyes.

“Almost a week. Thank god for takeout. And I think we have to go shopping again because everything probably spoiled in the fridge.”

Stiles licked his lips, flexing his muscles, trying to see if they would hold him.

“I put the meat in the freezer and the potatoes should be still good.”

Peter gave him a long, unreadable look.

“You did promise me meatloaf.”

_ I didn’t promise you anything _ , he thought and stopped himself before saying it. That… that was not what an omega was supposed to say.

***

Cooking was difficult. No, merely standing was difficult. His fingers felt numb and clumsy as he prepared the dinner - one week too late - but the more he tried the better he got. His head was clearer too, different.

Stiles wondered how long he’d been sick. Peter said one week. But one, Peter was an Alpha and couldn’t be trusted, and two, it… it felt like he’d been sick for a lot longer. Maybe ever since Gerard. Maybe even before that.

This new…  _ clarity  _ was a bit scary. He realized that his brain felt like it was chugging along in a muddy swamp before, and now? Now it was something else.

Stiles remembered his first day in school, when he got home and threw his heavy backpack down. With the weight gone it felt like he was flying. Just like now.

Peter was an Alpha, and Alphas couldn’t be trusted. 

That was something that kept coming back, making him pause over and over in his thoughts. It felt bold to even think it. Omegas were dependent on Alphas, never meant to question them, just follow. Alphas can’t be trusted, his mind told him again, the words sitting heavy in the back of his throat and tasting like the truth.

“Do you need help?” Peter asked, suddenly standing way too close. Stiles’ hand tightened on the knife he was peeling the potatoes with, and he flinched. Not from Peter. But from himself.

“No. No thank you.”

The Alpha hummed. His exhale brushed against the back of Stiles neck and made the hairs on his nape stand up. He couldn’t decide if it was a good feeling or not.

***

Peter wanted to set the table, and it set him on edge. He’d only been living here for a few days, but somehow he was already protective of this little place that omegas claimed for themselves.

“Stop,” he said, surprising the both of them. The Alpha closed the door of the cabinet where the plates lived and turned to him, making Stiles back into the counter. 

Peter raised an eyebrow.

Stiles felt dread climbing along his spine. What was he doing? It never ended well. Saying no to Alphas.

“Do you want to do it?” Peter asked him, and he didn’t sound angry. He sounded careful and like he was trying to piece a puzzle together. Stiles didn’t understand him. He wasn’t sure he even understood himself.

Still, a small part of him flared up like the fever that ate him up for days.

“Yeah. I. I can do it right.”

This was the part where Peter would get angry. He knew it. He just implied that the man wouldn’t be doing it right, and it had to… it just had to.

Peter held his hands up in surrender and backed away. There was a quirke to his lips that had Stiles all kind of confused.

“Suit yourself,” he said easily.

***

The meatloaf turned out okay. Not as good as his mother used to make it, and nowhere near his best work, but Peter made the appropriate noises as he ate and had seconds, so it must have been passable.

Stiles didn’t eat much, his stomach feeling too small after a week of not having anything solid - or at least not that he remembered. And he was still waiting for Peter say something about it. About being ordered out of his own kitchen by a fucking popper, but it never came.

He washed the dishes afterwards, only venturing into the living room when he heard banging. That usually didn’t mean good, but to his surprise Peter was working on… getting the desk they ordered assembled. He didn’t look like he knew what he was doing.

Stiles watched him, and for some reason he had to smile when he saw Peter actually reading the manual after the third failed attempt to get the legs to stand right.

Alphas couldn’t be trusted, but maybe… maybe there were exceptions to the rules.

***

Peter was watching the tv by the time he was done in the kitchen. The new desk was pushed to the corner, blending in passably with the rest of the furniture. It looked weird for Stiles, knowing that it was meant to be his. He wondered… He wondered if he could blend in just as well with the rest of Peter’s life.

Probably not.

“Come here,” Peter told him, patting the couch by his side.

His first instinct was to obey. That was always the first, but the second was suspicion. That was not usual.

Or no. No, it was usual. It was always in the back of his mind - questioning the intentions of others, trying to work out their motives, but now it was sharper. 

He still went, hoping that Peter didn’t notice his hesitation.

Stiles sat a bit apart, careful not to let their bodies touch. It was… it was rude, but it was what he  _ wanted _ . Peter didn’t say a word, just flipped the channels, occasionally glancing at Stiles from the corner of his eyes.

He stopped on a movie. Some werewolf flick with cheesy special effects and unnecessary slow motion.

“This good?” he asked.

Stiles shrugged. He hadn’t really watched tv since… in a long time.

“Um. Yeah.”

He didn’t know what Peter wanted to achieve with asking, but it made him wary.

He expected to be pulled closer. To be ordered closer, and it made his whole body tense like a piece of stretched out barbed wire. It never came. Whatever he expected of him, Peter always did the opposite.

“Deaton said we should be scent marking,” he said finally, offhanded, like a regular conversation starter. That ‘we’ didn’t slip Stiles’ attention and the tension in his spine eased a bit.

“Okay.”

Okay. He slid closer, inching his way across the distance between them, and somehow doing it on his own, by his own decision made all the difference.

He fell asleep like that not five minutes later; with his head resting on Peter’s chest and the man’s hand around his shoulders.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, guys! Having an exhausting week, that's gonna be followed by an exhausting weekend, so yeah.
> 
> All my love to Emma who has my back!

They built up a sort of… balance, a careful coexistence that seemed new for the both of them.

Stiles realized that Peter didn’t actually have a job. He had no idea how he didn’t notice that before. 

Actually, he didn’t notice a lot of things.

Like that he was bored out of his mind. He couldn’t remember ever being this bored. Well, that wasn’t true. He did know he’d been a fidgety child who always went out looking for adventure, but then… then there was school and then he presented as an omega… His body changed - hormones and everything - and he stopped being fidgety.

Subdued. Yeah. Something like that.

But now he felt like that again, like he couldn’t concentrate on anything for longer than a few minutes. He kept biting the end of his pen when he wrote the shopping list, or munched on carrots or chewed his nails. It was annoying even for him, he had no idea how Peter could stand it.

But the Alpha didn’t seem to mind. Stiles could catch him sometimes watching him from the corner of his eyes and it made him flush and stop whatever he was doing. Cohabiting with someone after this much time was not easy.

They didn’t talk much. Peter liked reading. He also had a home office where he disappeared for hours, or he went on long runs. He once caught Peter with a two year old magazine, and was pretty baffled, until he realized that the Alpha had been in a coma and was probably trying to catch up.

He wondered if Peter had family. He never saw anyone in the hospital, then again, family visits were rarely scheduled when Alphas had heats.

Sometimes… Sometimes he felt like he had been in a coma too. His sole connection to the outside world had been the tv in the cafeteria, turned to whatever station the handlers wanted to see. Twenty minutes of tv a day - breakfast and dinner combined - was not nearly enough to keep up.

He watched Peter’s unnecessarily large television a lot, flipping channels, never quite managing to stay on one for too long.

The only thing that sort of managed to calm him down was housework. It was simple, monotonous and relaxing. Even back, even when he did the same for Gerard, it had been his safe haven. Except, now that wasn’t as satisfying as before either. Stiles had a hard time losing himself in it - his brain in overdrive even with his hands busy.

He wasn’t stupid, okay? He knew that all these changes in him had something to do with Peter, and sometimes - when he felt the most drifting and restless - he almost missed the numbness. It was safe; comfortable, even. It didn’t let him think. It didn’t let him  _ question  _ things.

Because Stiles knew that no matter what his newfound clarity wanted him to believe, an omega was never supposed to question his Alpha.

***

It took him three days and one extremely fidgety afternoon to finally knock on the door of Peter’s study.

He was anxious. When was he not? But he was also…  _ angry _ . It was a feeling that he hadn’t been very familiar with before, but came to know closely since he had been sick. He knew that it was wrong to direct it at Peter - because deep down he was aware that it had no real aim, other than the world in general... but. But it had been Peter who somehow did this to him, who made it possible to even… to even feel it, and Stiles felt like he had to let it out if he didn’t want to explode from it.

“Come in,” Peter told him. He was sitting behind his elegant, mahogany desk in a pair of baggy track pants and a stretched out t-shirt. Stiles was sweating with nerves, and the picture the Alpha made just had everything look more surreal.

“What do you need?” the man asked, not even looking up from his computer. It set Stiles’ teeth on edge, and he couldn’t even tell why.

“Answers,” he blurted out, and that got Peter’s attention. It only took him a split second to smooth his features out, but it was enough for Stiles to realize that it was a mask. It was shocking. He probably wouldn’t have noticed such a subtle shift before, but now - after everything, after spending so much time with the man - he just knew it.

Alphas can’t be trusted - his brain supplied immediately, but even that made him angry. He was… he was owed answers. He had a  _ right  _ to get them.

“And what would the questions be?”

Stiles shifted on his feet, stopping himself from starting to bite his nails. They were already ugly - not how an omega’s hands should look at all.

“Why am I here?” he asked, because it was the most important and the most baffling.

Peter raised an eyebrow.

“To get answers, apparently,” he said, and… he had to know that Stiles was serious. The complete disregard for that made him seethe.

“Why did you  _ claim  _ me? Why are you doing all this without...” he forced out between clenched teeth, unable to finish. His short nails biting into the flesh of his palms. His spine felt like a string pulled too tight, just a second away from breaking.

Peter looked at him from behind that infuriating mask of nonchalance.

“Would you rather I didn’t? That I left you there?”

Stiles’ jaw twitched. That. That wasn’t  _ fair _ .

“So, pity?” 

He wasn’t going to give up that easily. He wasn’t. If that was his answer, he would take it. He wouldn’t like it, but it mattered little what he liked. He just wanted something.

Peter stood, and a part of Stiles wanted to bolt for the door. He didn’t. He stood his ground, feet planted firm and eyes following the man’s every move.

The Alpha circled him and then stopped behind his back, making every single cell of Stiles’ body fill with static, just waiting to lash out.

He flinched when Peter leaned in, his breath brushing against the lobe of his ear.

“No, Stiles. Not pity.” The man put his hands on his shoulders, digging into the tense muscles there until he sagged without meaning to. He didn’t notice how all his limbs had locked up until they suddenly weren’t anymore.

“I think,” Peter continued, “that we have… a connection. I don’t yet know where it might lead us, but I’m willing to find out,” he said.

He gave Stiles’ shoulders one more squeeze and then turned to go, stopping in the door.

“And I think having you around will be… useful in some way. Even without your services in the bedroom,” he said, leaving him standing there, looking at Peter’s empty desk.

Stiles closed his eyes, feeling weak and helpless in a way he never felt before. Oh, he’d been weak and he’d been helpless - so, so many times - but never like this. Never when he completely understood the weight of it.

Because Peter had been lying. Maybe not about everything, maybe not even directly, but he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

Useful. How exactly? Because he was pretty sure Peter wasn’t referring to his cooking.

Alphas - he reminded himself - couldn’t be trusted. And it seemed like there were no exceptions.

***

Stiles showered that night and scrubbed himself over and over until it hurt. As much as the POPO felt like a fuzzy dream now that happened to someone else, sometimes he still had the urge to peel his skin away, to claw off everything that had been layered over him there.

Peter never said anything.

Stiles didn’t have the luxury of thinking that it was normal anymore, and he wondered why the Alpha kept quiet. Maybe he didn’t care.

He lay down in the dark bedroom, the other side of the bed empty and listened to the sounds of the tv in the living room. His shoulder ached, like it did after he dreamed of Gerard. It was weird, this little purgatory between absolutes he was stuck in; claimed but unmated. Owned but not taken.

He wondered how long it would last. He wondered if he should get his answer - one way or another - before his time ran out...


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update again!  
> Sorry for the wait, guys, I had a crazy weekend.
> 
> Also, thank you Emma for being there! ;_; luv ya.

The next day, he waited until Peter went for a run and opened his new laptop.

He hadn’t really used it since he got it - he had nobody to communicate with - but he had to get creative to get some answers.

He sat down by his new desk, and hesitated for a second. What was he doing? What if Peter found out? And… as much as he hated how it made him feel, he was sitting in the Alpha’s expensive penthouse, at the desk that was bought just for him, and planning to use his brand new laptop to… spy on the man? Wasn’t that ungrateful? He was… safe. Well, not really, it didn’t feel like it, but he wasn’t hurt. He wasn’t  _ used _ . He wondered if he was in the wrong for not just taking what he was given like a good, obedient omega should.

Fuck it. Peter was keeping a secret. He wasn’t sure what it was, or if it even had anything to do with him, but he would get to the bottom of it.

His fingers were uncertain over the keyboard. He was pretty sure the last time he used a computer was in highschool. Gerard didn’t want him to get ‘tainted’ by liberal ideologies, and kept the only machine in the house password locked.

Still, pulling up google was easy enough. He watched the cursor blink for a moment, biting at his lip. Even though he knew he shouldn’t, the first thing he typed in wasn’t Peter’s name. It was Gerard’s.

_ Business mogul dead at age 83  _ said the first headline, an article on a major business site from a year ago. Stiles swallowed and clicked on the link.

 

_ Gerard Argent (Alpha, 83), former CEO of the Argent Corporation, died in his DC home last night. Mr. Argent ran the company for more than fifty years, making it expand from a small pharmaceutical business into the giant we know today. _

_ His death was due to complication from a long standing heart disease that was also responsible for his retirement three years ago, leaving the CEO position in the capable hands on his daughter, Kate Argent. _

_ Gerard Argent was a well respected Alpha, his family had a strong connection to conservative politicians and organizations, and his death shook the community.  _

_ He’s leaving behind daughter Kate (Alpha, 32), son Christopher (Beta, 39) and granddaughter Allison (Beta, 19) who are all grieving his loss. _

_ His childless second omega (18), mated only for two years, will be left in the care of the POPO, an agency the Argent Corporation had no small hand in establishing… _

 

Stiles clicked out of the window and closed his eyes, barely keeping himself from just… running out the door. Yeah, he probably shouldn’t have googled Gerard. It was… bad. It brought up all kinds of bad memories, and he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to face them, not even with his newfound clarity. Maybe exactly because of his newfound clarity.

His heart was beating fast and for a hysterical second he wondered if it was going to stop… just like… just like…

Stiles forced himself to breath. He was fine. He was more than fine and Gerard was dead. Really, really dead.

***

There wasn’t much to know about Peter Hale. He was thirty eight, had a law degree, but hadn’t really worked in the field. His sister, Talia - also an Alpha - was a senator and Peter had been her right hand right up until a nasty house fire that almost killed him six years ago. The house was apparently his sister’s but he was the only one there at the time, house sitting for her while she was on vacation with her family.

Most of the sites about Peter were actually about his sister, who was still active in the political scene. She was one of the rare liberal Alphas, and that should have explained some of Peter’s behaviour, except for the fact that there was something shifty about him. Stiles knew it. He just couldn’t figure it out.

There was a lot more about Talia Hale. After the fire she got reelected with a landslide - some sources claimed it had been mostly due to sympathy votes after the tragedy, but she had been leading in the polls even before that. She had a big family; four children - two alphas, a beta and an omega.

She had been doing well even after Peter disappeared, but didn’t have that much of a headway than before. Stiles wondered if the Alpha would get back to working with his sister… It didn’t look like Peter had a job, but with how much time he spent in his study, he might have organized a whole coup.

***

Stiles had lunch ready by the time the man came back from his run. He took care to leave his laptop like it had been, though he didn’t exactly understand why he tried so much, since it was his own and he could use it whenever he wanted.

“That smells delicious,” Peter said lightly as soon as he got changed, and Stiles could feel a part of him bristle at the tone, even while the other preened. It was confusing. Everything had been confusing lately.

“Steak with salad,” he said, putting the last plate on the table a bit too roughly. He couldn’t help thinking about yesterday.

_ … having you around will be useful in some way. _

Truth be told, Peter just didn’t seem the type to get himself a well mannered, domestic omega to cook his food and wash his underwear. Not if he was anything like his sister. Especially not one that had been through the wringer - beaten and broken - like him.

Then why?

***

Peter looked like he liked the food. Stiles watched him eat, pushing his own salad around on his plate. He could barely stomach a bite of the meat.

“I got a call from my sister,” he said, and Stiles tried to act interested, like he didn’t already know about Talia. “She invited us to dinner tomorrow, I think it would be a good time to introduce you…”

Stiles wasn’t sure how he felt about that. For one, maybe seeing more of Peter’s family would help in getting his answers… But on second thought, he didn’t know how such high profile people would react to him.

“Okay,” he said, going for nonchalant, but probably missing by a mile. Peter acted like he didn’t notice his awkwardness, and just hummed.

“How’s your day been?” the Alpha asked, taking a sip from his wine. Stiles wasn’t drinking. It wasn’t proper for an omega, and he actually had a bit of Peter’s when the man wasn’t looking and hated the taste.

Stiles gave him a look.

“Oh, just  _ wonderful _ . Done all kinds of exciting things, like dusting the books.”

There was a second of silence as Peter raised an eyebrow and Stiles actually realized what he said. He could feel himself pale. That was… that had been awfully…

He was hyperventilating before he even noticed, and then Peter was there, taking the fork he was grasping like a weapon carefully and crouching down beside his chair.

“Stiles, it’s fine. You’re fine,” he said, hand rubbing over his thigh. Stiles thought that the touch should disgust him, but to his surprise it did the opposite, making his locked muscles relax.

It took a moment or two, but slowly he was breathing normally again. The situation still left him trembling and dizzy.

“I… I’m sorry, Alpha,” he forced out, even as a part of him wanted to scream. He didn’t want to feel like this, like he was caged in a lifetime of rules that made no sense.

Peter actually smirked.

“As much as I imagine it’s a novel idea, I don’t mind you having  _ thoughts _ , not even when they aren’t… socially acceptable,” he said. He got up and poured Stiles a glass of water.

Stiles wished he could take his vitamins. They… they made things simpler.

Stiles nodded his thanks, feeling stupid - both for his insolent outburst and for almost having a panic attack about it.

“You know,” Peter told him, sitting back down, and continuing on his second steak like nothing happened. “Before you, I had a perfectly good housekeeping service coming over twice a week. If you don’t want to do cleaning - or even cooking, though I have to admit that would be a shame - I can get someone else to do it.”

Stiles blinked, not knowing what to feel. On one hand, he knew that Peter was… was trying to be nice by lifting his chores, but on the other… on the other the thought of losing his grasp on it made him irrationally scared and nauseous. 

“What would be the point of me being here then?” he blurted out, wide eyed and suddenly shaking even more than before.

Peter wasn’t fucking him. If he didn’t let him do what little he could he would be… he would be completely useless.

The Alpha looked shocked for a second, then his face changed. It wasn’t exactly pity, but it was close enough that it made Stiles look away.

“It was just an idea. The choice is yours.”

And wasn’t that the scariest thing of all?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently waiting for a commissioner to get back to me about something, so here! Have an update! :D
> 
> Enormous thanks to my lovely Emma who's always there for me! I luv you, hon!

Peter was holed up in his study for most of the next day, only surfacing when it was time to get ready for the dinner at his sister’s. Stiles’ stomach was already knotted into a solid ball of anxiety. 

He showered three times.

He had a nice pair of jeans on with a pale blue button down, not knowing how fancy it would be, and against his better judgement he couldn’t wait until Peter got out of his own turn in the bathroom.

“Is… is this okay?” he asked, motioning to himself. Peter gave him a long look, eyes unreadable before he nodded, turning away.

“Sure it is.”

***

Peter was driving a sleek black Camaro - because of course he was - and Stiles just closed his eyes and let himself be cradled by the comfortable leather seat as they headed out of the city.

They left the skyscrapers and then they left even the suburbs behind. Stiles was just about to ask if they got lost when Peter turned on to a surprisingly well paved road leading into the forest, and it didn’t take long until the Hale house came into view.

Hale  _ mansion _ , more like.

Stiles didn’t know if this was the same one that got burned down, or a completely new building, but it looked imposing, whatever the case. There were multiple cars standing in front, and Peter’s wasn’t even the flashiest.

He got out on shaky legs after Peter parked, holding the tray of triple chocolate brownies he made with white fingers.

“You ready?” the Alpha asked, putting a hand to the small of his back and staring him forward. Stiles nodded, throat too tight. He didn’t have much experience with the whole ‘meeting the family’ business. He had been Gerard’s second omega - very late in his life - and the whole affair was treated more like the Alpha getting a new dog, and not a mate.

It felt like it too.

They ascended the stairs, but before Peter could knock, the door opened, and to Stiles relief it was Cora standing there. Not like he knew her much either, but at least she was a familiar face.

“Hey, Uncle! Hey, Stiles,” she said, not sounding particularly excited, but Stiles had a feeling that she was just… always like that.

Peter smiled, kissing her cheek. 

“Good evening, darling. I hope we’re not early.” 

She raised an eyebrow.

“Considering that mom told you to arrive an hour ago? No you’re not.”

Stiles swallowed. He didn’t know they were late… Peter didn’t tell him what time they were supposed to arrive, but now he felt like it was his fault somehow.

“Hello, Alpha Cora,” he said, voice wavering a bit. Before he could hand over his tray she stepped out of their way.

“Come on it, everyone is at the table already.”

Fuck. Stiles could feel his hands shaking, so he just held onto the brownies stronger. Peter didn’t seem bothered, he lead him through the big, spacious hall into a huge dining room with a long table in the middle. As soon as they stepped in, Stiles could feel all eyes on them and it made his vision go a bit blurry with nerves.

“Peter, thanks for coming,” said a woman, and even just the tone of her voice would have been enough to let Stiles know that she was the master of the house. 

“Talia, thanks for the invitation, and sorry for being late,” Peter said smoothly, guiding Stiles around the table to two empty seats. He pulled the chair out for Stiles, but he hesitated, the tray still in his hand.

He should have asked where the kitchen was. He should have… he should have greeted Talia. He should have… He could hear his breath turning a bit thready, but before he could succumb to a full-blown panic attack the omega seated next to him got to his feet, taking the brownies away from him.

He was unusually big - body packed with muscles and with a five o’clock shadow - but moved with the quiet grace.

“I’ll put this away,” he said, voice surprisingly soft.

Stiles nodded his thanks, not sure he could answer and sat down closing his eyes.

Fuck.

***

He had no idea what people were talking about, all his attention focused on keeping his hands steady as he lifted the fork from his plate to his mouth. Nice and easy. Stiles kept his head down, face burning, even though nobody said a single word to him.

Peter was chatting easily with everyone around the table, and from the tone of the conversation, Stiles could tell that they haven’t been together like this for a while - not with Peter present at least.

He wondered if it had been regular for the Alpha - before the fire - to come over. And he wondered why he hadn't since he woke up from the coma.

Peter seemed like he was enjoying the attention, but… But Stiles could feel an underlying tension in him. Like a tiger doing circus tricks; it’s all fun and games until someone steps wrong. It set him on edge.

The Alpha must have noticed his worry, because he casually dropped his hand onto Stiles’ thigh, and left it there like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He wanted to pull away, but at the same time, it felt like he could breathe just a little bit easier.

The food was good. Or at least it looked good. Stiles mostly just chewed and swallowed like a machine, barely able to even do that, but with Peter touching him, some of his confidence returned and he even hazarded a few glances around the table.

It was easy to spot the Hale children.

Cora he already knew, and from his short research he could also guess that the older Alpha woman with a blond omega at her side - wearing a fucking scarf for some reason - had to be Laura. And then there was Derek, who was probably the guy sitting beside him. It still boggled Stiles’ mind, how little he looked like an omega. The Hales had another kid, a beta, who was the oldest, but Stiles didn’t see him around. He could remember something about him living in London.

Derek’s Alpha was young - maybe even younger than Derek himself - brown eyed with a crooked jaw line that somehow made him almost adorable.

“So, Stiles,” Talia said suddenly, making his heart stop. He looked up slowly, like the world suddenly stuttered into slow motion. 

Peter squeezed his thigh, and time returned to normal.

Even Talia looked like she had no idea where she wanted to go with this.

“How is life with my brother?” she asked finally.

Stiles cleared his throat, swallowing convulsively. He felt slightly nauseous.

“T-thank you for asking, Alpha Hale,” he stammered out, trying not to look at anyone else. The slim collar around his neck felt choking and comforting at the same time. “Peter is… he’s very good to me.”

It wasn’t even a lie. 

Talia smiled slightly, but before she could open her mouth Laura topped her.

“Well, I bet it’s better than being a  _ popper _ .”

The whole table fell silent. Stiles closed his eyes and tried to… to not just run out on everyone, even though every fiber of his body was screaming at him to do it. That word. It was a slur, is what it was, and out of some stupid… stupid hope, he didn’t expect to hear it here of all places.

He could  _ feel  _ Peter smile beside him.

“Care to repeat that, darling?” he asked, voice so, so easy. He lifted his hand off Stiles’ thigh, nonchalantly planting his elbows on the table.

Even though it wasn’t directed at him in any way, Stiles didn’t think he’d ever been this scared of him.

Laura raised an eyebrow, her whole posture changing.

“Well he is, isn’t he? Had been working  _ real hard  _ from what I heard,” she said.

“Um,” Derek’s Alpha said, sounding uncomfortable, but Talia waved him off.

“It’s okay, Scott. Derek, I think we’re mostly finished. Would you care showing Stiles the kitchen and getting the dessert, love?”

Her son nodded, pushing his chair back and looking expectantly at Stiles. He couldn’t help glancing at Peter but the Alpha was locked in a staring contest with Laura.

“Go on,” he said, not looking away for a second.

Stiles swallowed. Okay. Okay.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My undying thanks to the lovely Emma for having my back! <3

“This is the kitchen,” Derek said gruffly. Stiles nodded his head, feeling twitchy and unsettled. He just wanted to run.

They stood there awkwardly for a second or two and then the omega turned to him, making Stiles instinctively take a step back. Derek looked startled at his reaction and then… angry?

“It’s… it’s not about you,” he said finally, almost growling. 

Stiles nodded, eyes wide. Derek wasn’t like any omega he’d ever seen.

The man huffed out a breath and rubbed his face before turning away. He tore open the door of the fridge, pulling out the dessert. Tiramisu. And Stiles’ brownies. He was banging around, but even that wasn’t loud enough to top the shouting from the dining room. Stiles couldn’t understand what was being said, but maybe it was better that way.

“It’s about Peter,” Derek bit out. “Laura is a shithead, but she’s not… she wouldn’t say something like that under normal circumstances. Mother would end her.”

“Okay,” Stiles said quietly, flinching when a few particularly loud words reached them.  _ You are ruining mom’s reputation! _

He bit his lip, feeling shaky.

“Maybe… maybe I should just… go and wait in the car,” he said. Derek whirled around, brandishing a spoon.

“No.”

Stiles nodded again feeling like one of those bobbing toys made from brittle plastic, his back bumped into the kitchen counter as he stumbled back. Derek’s face went through an array of emotions from sadness to anger to pity to determination.

“Do not let her win this,” he said finally, voice gentle.

Okay.

He wasn’t feeling so good. And he… he tried to concentrate on something other than the tension radiating from the next room, but it was hard. Breathing was hard.

He didn’t notice when he slid down to the floor, but then Derek was there, cupping his face. He was saying something, but all Stiles was hearing was white noise.

He closed his eyes.

***

“Look at me,” said a voice, and Stiles would have loved to ignore it, but the voice said that particular Alpha tone in it that couldn’t be refused.

It wasn’t Peter though, it was Derek’s Alpha… what was his name again? S… Scott.

“Hey,” he said, and smiled. The expression seemed so foreign in the situation that Stiles sucked in a breath. And the then another.

“That’s it. Just breathe, okay? Everything’s cool, dude.”

Stiles snorted out a laugh breathlessly. He couldn’t remember the last time someone called him dude, especially not an Alpha, but it seemed like nothing worked like it should in the Hale house.

He wasn’t touching Stiles, which was good, because he wasn’t sure what he would do if an Alpha started getting handsy right now - even one as unusual as Scott.

“Do you need something?” he asked, dark eyes searching Stiles’ without a hint of… disgust or pity or anything.

He shook his head. Then nodded, despite himself.

“P-peter?” 

It was stupid. He was in this whole mess because of Peter. He shouldn’t be asking for him, especially not when he was this vulnerable, but… but the man always managed to anchor him with a simple touch. He needed that.

Scott looked apologetic.

“I… I don’t think he came out now… Not to sound like a coward, but I sure as hell don’t want to get in the middle of that mess,” he said sheepishly.

“Want me to get him?” Derek asked, his arms folded in front of his chest, face looking thundurus. Stiles never met an Alpha/omega couple before where the omega was the more intimidating one. He didn’t think it was possible.

“No, babe, it’s cool. Let them get out whatever is bothering them. Can you get a glass of water?” 

Derek nodded reluctantly, and Stiles really had no excuse for this next question, other than still being all wobbly from anxiety.

“How did he get so big?” he asked Scott, and the Alpha actually laughed, before his face turned serious.

“Let’s just say he’d been on a very… balanced diet all his life,” he said. Stiles knew he wasn’t telling the truth, and unfortunately for him, his filter had been disabled by his panic.

“You mean the vitamins?”

Derek almost dropped the glass, and just that reaction was enough to make Stiles want to melt into the cabinet at his back.

Scott didn’t look angry though, just surprised.

“Peter told you?”

Stiles licked his lips. Now was his chance to find his answers. At the same time he didn’t want to lie to Scott. He didn’t think he could do it.

“Not… not in so many words,” he said finally, settling for something in-between the absolutes.

Scott was already opening his mouth, but Derek cut him off, pushing the tall glass of water into Stiles’ hands.

“Meaning?” His eyes were sharp and Stiles had to look away, taking a sip to cover his nerves.

“He… I. He didn’t let me take them… and then I was sick,” he said. He knew it of course, what it meant; that he had been in some sort of withdrawal, but putting it into words still left him shaky. “Then everything was… weird.” 

There was no better way to say it. Derek looked furious again, but Stiles didn’t have enough energy left to be scared.

“He made you stop cold turkey?” he asked, voice going rough.

Stiles nodded, blinking at him. What was that supposed to mean?

Derek stood and walked around the kitchen like a caged animal, glancing towards the dining room from time to time. Even Scott looked worried.

“Babe, I don’t think this is the right time…”

Derek nodded jerkily, stepping up to the counter and scooping a big serving of tiramisu into a big mug.

He sat down beside Stiles, eyebrows drawn together and handed it over to him almost violently.

“Eat some fucking tiramisu.”

***

Scott sat down at his other side, their shoulders almost - but not quite - touching.

It was almost peaceful. And the tiramisu was good. Like, really good.

The shouting was still going on the dining room, and Stiles tried desperately to block it out.

“So, how did you two get together?” he asked, looking for a safe topic. It couldn’t have been worse than him meeting Peter. He was pretty sure.

On one side of him Scott chuckled, and on the other Derek groaned like he’d been stabbed.

“It’s not that interesting,” the omega said, but his Alpha cut him off.

“No, it’s  _ gold  _ actually! I’d been an intern at Talia’s first senate campaign and… well, I guess Peter saw something in me, because he personally took me under his wing. Everything was going well, until the barbeque.”

“Please stop,” Derek growled, and it just made Stiles more curious.

“So,” Scott continued. “I’d heard of Derek before, but not in that much detail. Just that we were the same age and he was unmated and you know… I was unmated… Anyway. I came over and then there were the usual introductions and then I saw this gorgeous, gorgeous guy.”

Stiles glanced at him from the corner of his eyes. He looked absolutely dopey from the memory. 

“And well. Peter was like, Scott, this is my nephew Derek. And… okay, I have to admit I was totally taken off guard, because he was beautiful, but at the same time totally not what I was expecting. My words to him were:  _ are you actually an omega _ ?” he said with a laugh.

That… that sounded awkward, but he could understand it. Derek really didn’t look like an omega. At all.

“And? And what happened?” he asked, because he was curious now.

It was Derek who answered.

“I punched him.”

Stiles almost choked on his tiramisu.

“You what?!”

Even Derek’s lips were quirked into a smile.

“I knocked him clean out, he had to be carried in to the couch.”

Scott was laughing so hard that there were tears in his eyes.

“Man, I thought he broke my jaw. Maybe that’s why it’s so crooked…”

“It was always like that,” Derek told him with an eyeroll.

“It was love at first sight,” Scott finished.

Stiles blinked at the both of them, feeling a bit… envious.

He almost didn’t notice Peter appearing in the door.

“Stiles, come on. We are going home,” he said, voice unreadable. Stiles nodded jerkily and got up, handing the cup back to Derek.

“Thanks for the tiramisu,” he said, before scurrying off after Peter. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t look him in the eyes.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my thanks to Emma <3
> 
> This will be a bit rough.

They almost made it to the door before Talia caught up to them. Stiles instinctively took a half step behind Peter. To his surprise the woman was looking at him and not her brother.

“Stiles,” she said, and it was nearly enough to make his vision go grayish again. “I would like to apologize for tonight.”

Wait. What? That… he couldn’t have heard that right, could he?

“You aren’t the one who should be apologizing,” Peter bit out, but Talia gave him a withering look.

“I have invited you, of course I have to apologize, and I wasn’t talking to you,” she said. It made Stiles shake. What if Peter got angry at the dismissal?

“It’s… it’s okay! I… I just want to go,” he said. He desperately wanted to grab Peter’s arm to… to pull him out, yeah, that’s it.

***

Stiles was actually happy when the door of the car finally closed after him and Peter started the engine, putting the Hale house in the rearview mirror.

Yeah, Scott and Derek were nice, and Talia wasn’t that bad either - he still couldn’t wrap his head around an Alpha apologizing to  _ him  _ \- but they were a bit much.

Peter didn’t say anything. Stiles watched him from the corner of his eyes, trying to judge his mood. Back in the day he was such an expert in it; just one look at Gerard was enough to know if he was going to have a bloody night or not.

Peter was different. His hair looked like he had run his hands through it one too many times and there was a tightness around his eyes that Stiles didn’t like. He couldn’t help thinking about what happened.

Derek said that Laura’s comment wasn’t meant to hurt him but Peter. He could accept that. Sure, there was… anger bubbling up like bile in the back of his throat, but she was an Alpha and he was just an omega. And it wasn’t like she wasn’t telling the truth. Maybe that was why it hurt so much; because he was really just a popper that somehow got lucky.

He wished he could have been present, that he could have heard what else she said, but that ship had sailed, and maybe it was better like this. It didn’t look like Peter ended up agreeing with her anyway, so that was positive. Mind boggling, but positive.

Still, the more he thought about everything that happen, the more questions he had.

***

By the time they were back home, Stiles felt like his skin was buzzing with… everything.

“How long have you known about the vitamins?” he asked as soon as they were inside the door, making Peter pause - his suit jacket halfway off his shoulder.

Because if what Derek said was true, then they had to know before he hit puberty. That meant they knew for years and they… they didn’t…

He’d never seen Peter’s face look so empty as when he finally turned around to face him. He knew it was a mask again. And - even more than ever before - he knew that he couldn’t be trusted.

“Hm… Put the picture together?” the man asked, throwing the jacket over the back of the couch. Stiles started to shake when he stepped closer, but stood his ground. He had to, for once in his life.

Stiles swallowed and nodded his head. He didn’t have all the pieces yet, but he got the general picture.

Peter reached up, hand hovering just an inch away from Stiles’ jaw, but then it dropped. Stiles didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved.

“It wasn't always just Talia and me. We had a little sister, Maggy, ten years younger than me, the baby of the family. She was the brightest little thing you’ve ever seen…” 

He turned on his heels and headed to the bedroom. Stiles watched his back and followed. He wanted to know.

“What happened to her?” he asked, because he didn’t find anything about another Hale. Anywhere.

Peter was getting naked. He averted his eyes, shifting from foot to foot, but he didn’t leave. 

“She died, a few days after presenting as an omega,” Peter told him, his voice colorless. For some reason Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off his calves. He was sort of hairy there, but clearly strong. 

“Actually, she died an hour after she first took the omega vitamins. Her face turned blue and she couldn’t breath. And then she was dead.”

Stiles watched Peter’s feet as he slipped them into his track pants. He had nice ankles. Stiles thought about Heather. How she must have looked when she was found there, in that supply closet; her blond hair matted with the blood drying on the floor around her.

He didn’t look at Peter when he turned around, didn’t look at him when he brushed passed him.

“I’m going for a run.”

***

Stiles was already in bed by the time Peter got back two hours later. It was well past midnight and he’d been trying - so, so hard - not to  _ think _ .

He tried to say silent and motionless while the man slipped under the covers next to him. Half of him wanted to keep pretending, the other half was still itching for answers.

In the end it was Peter who broke the silence.

“We don’t know exactly what’s in them, but it’s not  _ vitamins _ ,” he said, splitting out the last word.

And yeah, Stiles kind of guessed that. He did. But the verbal confirmation was still like getting punched in the solar plexus. 

“Why… why haven’t you done something!?” he asked, voice breaking. Because. Because it wasn’t fair. If the Hales knew something like that, that omegas all over the world were given poison, then they should have… they should have…

Peter moved so fast that Stiles had no time to react, he was just suddenly pinned to the bed with the Alpha’s hand around his throat. He wasn’t squeezing down. Not yet, but the promise of it still lingered between his fingers.

Stiles - for the first time since he was told that his father was dead - was not afraid.

He was angry.

“Why haven’t I done something? Oh, I have. I collected data, I collected information, testimonies, samples, death certificates… Only for all of it to go up in flames - me included. So don’t you dare ask me that,” he hissed. Stiles grabbed his arm and clenched his hands as hard as he could. He wasn’t even trying to get out, he just wanted to… do something.

Peter chuckled.

“Tell me this instead: have you figured out the last part, Stiles? Have you figured out who’s behind this all? How does it feel? That you cooked for the man who made the whole world believe these lies? How does it feel to have fucked him, hm? Why didn’t  _ you  _ do something?”

Stiles blinked. Yeah. Yeah that was true too. Gerard was… He had been… He didn’t know if he was crying or laughing, but he was doing  _ something _ , and it must have been scary, because Peter’s hand disappeared from around his throat, the man rearing back from him.

“I…” he couldn’t even finish the sentence, and Peter must have thought that he was going into hysterics. He thought he was. “I killed him! That’s what I did, I  _ killed  _ him. Oh god, I really killed him…”

Peter was talking, but he wasn’t hearing it anymore, he curled on his side and laughed until his face was covered in tears and his side hurt and he couldn’t breath.

***

It took him a long time to calm down, and by then he was only crying, all of is mad cheer evaporating. He didn’t know what to do with the confirmation of the guilt he’d been living with for two years. He was a killer now. He was officially a murderer, a criminal, someone his dad would have put behind bars.

Peter was holding him close, his chin resting on top of Stiles head, his hands rubbing up and down his spine.

He clutched at Peter’s shirt, trying to burrow even closer, even though it wasn’t possible.

“I killed him,” he said again, choking on the admission. The press of Peter’s lips against his forehead felt like a brand.

“What happened?” the man asked, quiet enough to be ignored if he wanted to. He didn’t. He’d ignored it for way too long.

“I… I just wanted him to die sooner,” he whispered. “I thought it wouldn’t work, because, you know. They are just  _ vitamins _ . Fucking vitamins… I just… I just wanted it to end a bit sooner.”

Peter stayed quiet for a second and then started shaking with silent laughter.

“You switched his medicines.”

Stiles nodded against his chest, squeezing his eyes closed and expecting… something.

Peter pulled the comforter over them.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I BET YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS ABANDONED!
> 
> Plot twist, I also thought this was abandoned, but I'm trying to be better with that, so here!   
> Also, all my love to Emma!

He woke up warm and cozy, but with a sizable headache. He cried a bit too much last night - the pain was almost familiar enough to greet as a friend.

Peter was right beside him, spooning him from behind with a casual arm thrown over Stiles. It didn’t feel stifling like he expected it to. He let himself enjoy the comfort of it for a few seconds, but then his treacherous brain kicked in the second he let his guard down.

He… he admitted that he murdered Gerard. An Alpha.

Stiles couldn’t remember if that ever happened before. Omegas were not supposed to… to be violent, to  _ kill  _ people. Peter was going to tell. He just knew it. 

Alphas couldn’t be trusted, especially not with keeping a secret like that.

He was quickly working himself up to a panic when Peter’s arm tightened around him.

“Calm down, Stiles,” he said, voice still sleepy but with that slight edge of Alpha command he had to follow. “Is this about what you told me?”

Stiles nodded his head dumbly. He took a deep breath. Then another.

But he couldn’t stop shaking. Would he be tried as an adult? Omegas were legally invalid, all of their rights signed off from their families to their Alphas as soon as they got mated, but he didn’t know if that was true for criminal charges too…

“I said calm down,” Peter repeated with a bit more force. Stiles was trying, okay? He was.

“Do I look like I’m about to rush off to the police?”

Stiles shook his head against the pillow, shivering when he felt Peter’s breath at the nape of his neck.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. Instead, I will give you a little reward, hm? Want me to tell you a story?”

Stiles blinked, trying to process all that. Wait. A story?

“About what?” he asked between two shallow breaths. He wasn’t a child.

“About how a man built a castle of lies until it all fell down on his head - thanks to you.”

***

“Once upon a time,” he started, flattening his palm over Stiles chest and pushing down gently when he needed to exhale. “There was a young man, raised in a conservative town by a conservative family.”

Stiles swallowed, throat feeling dry. Peter’s hand was too warm against him. Suffocating.

“He had been a promising chemist, and the future heir of a small pharmacy. He had a lovely little omega lined up for him, only waiting for the girl to turn sixteen. Everything was perfect.”

Stiles shivered.  _ Nothing  _ was ever perfect, and the words fell from Peter’s lips like venom.

“Our chemist had it all planned for himself. A little, white-fenced house. Maybe a dog or two. Who knows? But it wasn’t meant to be.”

Stiles sucked in a breath. This had to be about Gerard. It had to. He had a hard time picturing him in any way other than how he remembered… With his lips covered in Stiles’ blood, his eyes furious and his cock hard and still  _ useless… _

Peter’s lips brushed his ear as he leaned over him.

“Breathe,” he commanded, and Stiles did.

“If it was up to him, the little chemist would have had it all, but the girl… A bright little thing, fifteen, if even that, had other ideas,” Peter continued. Stiles closed his eyes tightly. From what he knew, Gerard’s wife died a few decades before, when she was pregnant with a third child. Gerard didn’t talk about her much, then again, Gerard didn’t talk to Stiles, he just commanded.

Peter rubbed at his chest, the friction grating, even over the thin fabric of Stiles’ shirt.

“The girl got caught up in something much bigger than she was. Mind you, this was a good ten years before the civil rights movement, or even the sexual revolution really took off… Maybe if it happened a bit later, history would have turned out quite different…”

Peter sounded weird. Stiles couldn’t see his face, but just knew that he was staring at nothing. His voice - strangely - reminded him of when he was in a coma. It was colorless. Lifeless.

Stiles thought about what the Alpha told him yesterday. About all the research, all the proof he so painstakingly collected. All of it going up in flames.

“History books will tell you nothing about this, but back at the end of the forties there was an omega rights movement… They called themselves ‘Anti Dynamics’. It’s a stupid name, really.”

Stiles didn’t know about that. He couldn’t stop thinking about the girl. Fifteen. Engaged to Gerard Argent, when he still had his whole life ahead of him. Stiles felt sick from just the thought.

“The girl - I know it’s hard to believe it, but I  _ still  _ don’t know her name - ran away, to take part in a protest in Dallas. The Anti Dynamics planned a march, demanding equal rights to the spectrum.”

Stiles… he knew Peter was telling the truth, he just knew it, but it was still hard to believe that. Even today, it was hard to imagine something like that happening. People who were more liberal, who believed in equality of the dynamics were ridiculed, branded as a delusional hippy. A march. Stiles wondered if he would have went to one. Back when he had been fifteen. Before his life got ripped apart and contorted out of shape.

The horrifying thing was; he wasn’t sure.

He licked his lips, but they still felt dry when he tried to talk.

“What happened?”

Peter hummed tunelessly. 

“She got killed. Trampled by a police horse, I think, it doesn’t matter.”

Stiles shivered, his heart was beating double again. For a second he wanted to run, to hide under the bed. Take a shower until the skin melted off his body.

_ It doesn’t matter _ .

“What matters, is that she was dead, and our little chemist was devastated. His careful plans all crumbled, and all he knew that it was the fault of those damned Anti Dynamics… So the little chemist went to his little lab and started cooking in his little pots.”

Stiles wanted to throw up.

“He cooked and cooked and cooked until he found something that - he believed - would help the world…” Peter paused and then chuckled. A terrible little sound. “Every villain is the hero of their own story right?”

Stiles sucked in a breath, feeling cold despite Peter being so close. Or maybe exactly because of that.

“The first thing he did, our little chemist, was find himself a mate. He picked one from an orphanage, one with no close relatives, no family Alpha to scrutinize. It was a test for his brand new… dietary supplement. And it worked like a charm. The second omega - rough around the edges from being in the system - became a tame little lamb after only a few short months. Never asking questions, never disobeying… with barely a thought in her pretty little head-”

“I have to…” Stiles tore himself out from the bed, the sheets wrapped around his leg feeling like slimy tentacles ready to drag him to the bottom. The bottom of what, he didn’t know, but he knew it was dark and suffocating.

He bolted for the bathroom, barely making it in time to throw up into the toilet, the porcelain against his fingers cold enough to hurt.

Stiles heaved there for a few minutes, a part of him dreading Peter coming in after him. But the Alpha didn’t.

He rinsed his mouth and washed his teeth, and went to the kitchen to start breakfast.

His thoughts in his brain kept clicking around, like the clip of an empty revolver.

The smell of bacon made him nauseous, but he was almost finished making the eggs by the time Peter came out of the bedroom.

“Want me to set the table?” he asked, careful. Stiles didn’t know what to… he didn’t know what to expect. What to do.

“Just… just for yourself,” he said finally. 

Peter nodded and did as he was told. Stiles was feeling sick again.

He swallowed it down and serve the breakfast, immediately turning to do the dishes. There was not much, just the frying pan and a chopping board, but he turned water to hot and let it boil his fingers.

The Alpha didn’t say a word until he was finished eating.

“Thank you, that was great,” he said. 

Everything was so surreal, like he was on drugs again. Except it was only Peter, who was making things weird.

Stiles didn’t notice when the Alpha stood, and stilled like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf when the man stepped up close to him, slipping his plate into the bubbly water of the sink.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” he said.

“Okay.” He didn’t dare to move.

“Do you want to hear the rest of it?”

He did. But he wasn’t sure he could take it like this.

“The facts,” he said finally. He could deal with that. He had to be able to deal with that.

“Alright,” Peter told him. “Just the facts.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at udunie.tumblr.com
> 
> Comments are love!


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